Out of This World, Page 3

  He shakes his head.

  “So are you going to send in a SWAT team or something?”

  “That’ll just scare him off and he’ll alert the others. We need to round them all up so we don’t have to think about them anymore.”

  “Didn’t some of those Black Key guys turn themselves in for protective custody?” I ask. “Why don’t you just lean on one of them?”

  “We don’t ‘lean’ on people.”

  I don’t really believe that, but I let it pass.

  “So, what?” I ask. “You wait until he shoots Josh’s mom, or one of us, and then you bust him?”

  “I won’t let it go anywhere near that far. But let me think about it.”

  Donalita nudges the back of my leg with her snout and I remember what she’s actually capable of.

  “How about if I deliver him to you, dude? All gift-wrapped with a pretty bow and everything?”

  “Don’t you even think about trying to take him on. All the Black Key personnel are military trained and highly dangerous.”

  “Dude. I didn’t say I was going to do it.”

  “And I don’t want any of your Wildling amigos involved, either. They may be fast and strong, but they’re no match for professionals.”

  “So, no citizen’s arrests.”

  He sighs. “That’s right. No citizen’s arrests. Let me handle it.

  The next time you need to get in touch with me, just call.”

  “I don’t have your number.”

  “Didn’t Josh use your phone to call me yesterday?”

  I feel like slapping my head. Of course he did. The number’s sitting there in my Recents. We didn’t have to go through all this spy crap.

  “And I’m serious,” Solana says. “Don’t go trying to play hero.”

  “Dude, I heard you the first time. What are you? My mother?”

  He studies me for a long moment, then nods and starts back across the sand to his car. I wait until the interior light goes on and the door closes.

  “What do you think, Donalita?” I say. “Can we take this sniper guy without killing him or getting ourselves killed in the process?”

  The coatimundi scurries out from behind my legs and jumps up on the bench where she changes into her human form.

  “Piece of cake,” she says.

  It’s farther to the top of the gulch than I thought. Despite my Wildling strength, I’m breathing hard when I finally approach the top. But I’m looking forward to the view and to seeing Tío Goyo way down below.

  Except when I get to the top, he’s up there sitting cross-legged on a rock and humming something tuneless. The thin spiky branches of an ocotillo fan out behind him.

  I stand half bent over, hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath enough to ask, “Huh—huh—how did—huh—you— huh—do that?”

  He just shakes his head, like he’s embarrassed for me.

  “Maybe I’ll tell you down below,” he says. “And be careful.

  Descending this terrain can be harder than going up.”

  I stand there staring at him, still trying to catch my breath.

  “What are you waiting for?” he asks.

  My head is spinning with questions. But then I remember what he said below and it’s still true. I’m too much in my own head.

  I turn and start back down. He’s right about this, too. It is harder. I can’t go as quickly as I did coming up without losing my balance. But I push myself to go as fast as I safely can because I need to get my brain to just shut up.

  He’s waiting down below, but this time I don’t talk to him. I just give him a nod and start back up the gulch.

  It’s weird, tiptoeing through Papá’s house in the middle of the night. I feel like I’m in somebody else’s house even though I’m usually here a couple of times a week.

  But everything familiar looks different in the dark. It feels different without the girls underfoot, Elena’s cheerful presence, Papá watching the news channel. Everybody’s in bed and I can’t shake the sensation that Ampora and I are a pair of burglars creeping through a house that belongs to strangers.

  What’s even weirder is Ampora being nice to me. Okay, maybe saying nice is a stretch, but she is making an effort to do more than just tolerate my presence. She’s even starting conversations.

  “Josh was asking me about these guys called los tíos,” she says when we’re lying beside each other in her bed.

  Her voice is a quiet whisper, right beside my ear. I’m very aware of the closeness of her body to mine and savour the sisterhood that I can’t help but feel.

  “You mean the hawk uncles,” I say.

  “So you know about them?”

  “Just what I heard from Josh. I’d actually never heard of them before.”

  “Me either. I said I’d see if Papá knew anything about them.”

  “Does he?”

  “I think so. But he wouldn’t talk about them.”

  I turn my head to look at her. “That’s weird. Usually he can’t stop talking about the old folk tales and stories, once you get him going.”

  “I know. I’m going to ask Elena about them tomorrow.”

  She doesn’t say anything else, so I figure she’s gone to sleep.

  I listen to her breathing even out and lie awake awhile, staring up at the dark ceiling, worrying about Josh. I know Theo says I shouldn’t. And it makes sense. Josh handled Vincenzo like it was nothing. He took that psycho elder out when Theo couldn’t even lay a hand on him. But still. It’s Josh. My Josh doesn’t have a mean bone in his body. Or at least he never did before.

  I flash on Vincenzo’s shredded body and suddenly the warm bed feels cold.

  “So who is your new boyfriend?” Ampora asks just as I’m finally starting to shake that memory and drift off.

  I was afraid this would come up at some point. I just didn’t expect it so soon.

  “I know he doesn’t go to Sunny Hill,” she goes on when I don’t answer right away, “because I only ever see you with your usual crew.”

  “It’s complicated,” I finally say.

  “Complicated how?”

  “If people knew we were together, they might misunderstand.”

  She turns to me, head supported by her forearm. “Now I’m really intrigued.”

  I don’t know why I tell her. Maybe it’s because this is how I always wanted it to be, the two of us hanging out like real sisters, talking late into the night, sharing our secrets.

  “His name’s Theo,” I say. At her blank look I add, “Theo Washington.”

  It’s like somebody just threw a switch. She sits up, revulsion twisting her features.

  “Are you for real?” she says.

  I sit up and hold her forearm. “Before you start—”

  But she yanks her arm away and cuts me off. “God, you’re such a hypocrite. You’re all in my face because you think I’m running with the Kings, but meanwhile you’re banging Chaingang Washington.”

  “I am not—”

  She doesn’t let me finish. She leaps out of bed and points toward her window.

  “Just get out of here. Go back to Mamá—the two of you deserve each other,” she says. “I mean it,” she adds when I don’t move.

  I take a breath to steady myself because all I really want to do is smack her.

  Be calm, I tell myself. Take the high road.

  “This is exactly why I didn’t want—” I start, but she cuts me off again.

  “I’m serious,” she says. “Get out or I’ll wake Papá and we’ll see how happy he is when he finds out you’re in a gang.”

  “I’m not in a—”

  “Get. Out.”

  There’s no give in her face. Everything’s shut down. I don’t think she even sees me. From the set of her features, I know that all she sees is some awful thing—like I’m a piece of crud on the bottom of her shoe.

  “Okay,” I tell her. “I’m going.”

  I’m mad at her, but I’m more mad at myself f
or getting sucked into thinking it could ever be any different. Tears well up in my eyes but I refuse to cry in front of her.

  I get up from the bed and dress as quickly as I can. She doesn’t look at me. Not while I’m dressing. Not when I pause by the window. She’s probably still staring at the wall after I’ve gone through the window and I’m walking down the street away from the house.

  I make it as far as the park before the full enormity of it all hits me.

  Ampora knows about Theo and me. By tomorrow morning everybody’s going to know about us. Papá will be so pissed off. Mamá will have a heart attack.

  This is almost as bad as being outed as a Wildling. Maybe worse. Becoming a Wildling isn’t something I ever chose.

  Why did I confide in her? What was I thinking? I can’t even threaten her that I’ll tell Papá about her getting mixed up with the Kings yesterday because me being a Wildling trumps that by about a million.

  I sit on a swing and let my feet drag back and forth in the sand as I try to figure out what to do.

  It’s while I’m sitting there that I realize I’m not alone.

  I think I’m going to die by the fourth time up.

  “Remember,” Tío Goyo says. “The mountain lion is yours to control.”

  I hit a wall halfway up. I’m all set to just say screw it and sit down right where I am, but I don’t want to give Tío Goyo the satisfaction of being right. So I push on, cursing him with each painful step.

  The mountain lion is pissed. It wants to break free and lope up the gulch, then maybe swat Tío Goyo around a few times to let the old uncle know what it thinks about this pointless exercise.

  But as I go back down, I think about it—the faster and stronger element of being a Wildling, but also the increased stamina. So why am I having so much trouble?

  The mountain lion is yours to control.

  Yeah, so? I’ve been controlling it. I haven’t been cheating and shifting to its shape. I haven’t knocked Tío Goyo’s head off. Yet.

  But then I realize I’m not using its full capabilities, either. I can take more from its strength and speed and stamina without having to shift into the full mountain lion shape.

  So, coming up the fifth time, I push through the wall of exhaustion and actually feel lighter on my feet by the time I get to the top than back when I started. This is cool.

  When I reach the top on my seventh trip, Tío Goyo grabs my arm before I can start back down.

  “How’s that conversation inside your head?” he asks.

  It takes me a moment to get out of the zone and register what he’s asking, then a moment longer to answer.

  “What conversation?” I ask, grinning.

  He nods. “Good. I think you can stop.”

  “So,” I say when we’re back in the shadows of the house across from Josh’s place. “How do we do this?”

  I can’t see the sniper from where I’m standing, but Donalita pokes her head around the corner of the house and assures me he’s still there on the roof.

  “I’ve got a great idea,” she says.

  I turn to look at her. She’s got a gleam in her eyes that makes me nervous.

  “Okay,” I say. “But it doesn’t involve death or dismemberment, right?”

  “Well,” she says, drawing out the word. “Not on purpose.”

  “Dude!” I start, except then she gets that big grin of hers.

  She holds up a hand. “I know. It’s just a word. Like yo, or wassup.”

  “Exactly. One I obviously use too much. And you’re changing the subject. What’s your plan?”

  I almost wish I wasn’t asking.

  She leans close, filling my nose with her fruity musk smell.

  “You,” she says, laying her palm on my chest, “walk up to the front door of Josh’s house, all casual, la-la-la, and while Big Stupid on the roof is watching you, I’ll bang him on the head and knock him out.”

  “You want me to be bait.”

  “More like a distraction.”

  “Dude, he’ll probably just shoot me!”

  “I won’t let that happen.”

  My eyebrows go up.

  “Because,” she says, “you’re going to give me a head start. Count to three hundred and twelve and then step out onto the street. I’ll be ready to do the rest.”

  “Why three hundred and twelve?”

  “It’s kind of a fun number.”

  “In what universe?” I ask.

  She shrugs, then slips away.

  “Hey!” I call after her in a loud whisper. “I never said I’d do this.”

  But she’s long gone. I sneak a peek around the corner of the house, but I still can’t see the sniper.

  Sighing, I start to count. When I get to Donalita’s “fun” number, I take a deep breath and walk along the side of the house.

  I realize I’m an idiot. Why did I let her talk me into this? If I’m also a target and she doesn’t get to the sniper fast enough, this could be the last chapter in the very short book of my life.

  I force myself to not look where the sniper is hidden as I step out onto the street. I imagine Marina hearing about this plan of Donalita’s. Are you a complete idiot? she’d say. Even Josh would try to talk me out of it.

  But they aren’t around and the only person in my corner is a bloodthirsty Wildling who’s more focused on the fun of taking out the sniper than what might happen to me.

  Let’s face it. I am an idiot.

  The hairs on the nape of my neck are standing straight up and I’ve got a crazy itch crawling up and down the length of my spine. I try to keep my pace casual, but it’s all I can do not to break into a run and take off as fast as I can go.

  Eventually—like about a century later—I turn up the walk to Josh’s house. I get all the way up to the front door when I hear a short sharp whistle.

  I freeze until it’s repeated, then I slowly turn to scan the flat roof on the other side of the street. I expect to see a rifle pointed at me, a muzzle flash. Instead it’s just Donalita, silhouetted against the sky, waving at me.

  I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and wave back. Looking up and down the street, I trot across, stopping under where she’s standing.

  “Is everything okay?” I whisper up to her.

  She gives me a mad grin and a thumbs-up.

  “And he’s not dead?”

  “He’s just tied up.”

  “Okay. Good. You should come—”

  Before I get to finish, she’s already jumped, landing lightly on her feet beside me. Man, would I like a little dab of Wildling in me to be able to do that kind of thing. The tricks I could pull off on my skateboard.

  “That was so fun. Now what do we do?” she asks.

  “Now I call Solana.”

  I pull out my phone, punch in the FBI agent’s number and start walking. Donalita falls in step beside me. When Solana answers, I rattle off the address where we left the Black Key Securities guy and tell him to look on the roof.

  “What the hell did you do?” Solana asks. “I told you not to—”

  “Relax. I never even went up. I just saw somebody take him out and tie him up.”

  “Yeah? And what were you—”

  I thumb the End button and stow the phone back into my pocket. When it rings, I see it’s Solana calling back, so I turn off the power and put the phone away again.

  All this time, Donalita’s walking along beside me, a bounce in her steps.

  “Where are we going now?” she asks.

  I almost wince at the perkiness in her voice. I was already exhausted before we got into all of this. Now that the adrenalin rush has worn off, I just want to crash.

  “I don’t know about you,” I tell her, “but I’m beat. I’m going home to bed.”

  “Can I come?”

  “Dude, I live with my parents.”

  “I’ll be good. I’ll be as quiet as a mouse—quieter really, because they’re always making these scritchy-scratchy sounds and
I won’t make a single one.”

  “Do you have any idea how long I’d be grounded if my parents caught me with a girl sleeping over?”

  “I’ll be a coati girl and sleep in a corner and no one will ever know I was there.”

  “I don’t know …”

  “Please please please please. I’ve nowhere else to go. And Theo said I’m supposed to watch out for you.”

  I’m too tired to argue, so against my better judgment, I let her tag along.

  Tío Goyo tosses me a canteen. The water is warm and has a metallic tang, but I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything as good. I have another long pull. That’s when I see the two big backpacks sitting on the ground by his feet.

  “Where did those come from?” I ask.

  He shrugs.

  “And how did you get up and down so fast? Did you change into a hawk and fly?”

  “Where do these stories come from?” he says.

  “Well, you know—”

  He holds up a hand. “Is the conversation in your head starting up again?”

  I got through the last ordeal faster than he expected, but I don’t feel like starting all over again.

  “I’m fine,” I tell him. “Head empty, ready to rock and roll.”

  He nods. “All right, then. I’m going to walk out of your sight. I want you to call up a map of the area in your head and figure out where I am.”

  I watch him leave, tiny plumes of dust rising from his footsteps. Then he’s gone. I take another pull from the canteen. Sitting on his rock, I close my eyes and try to tune in to the GPS thing in my head. It was so strong back home I had to damp it down or I thought I’d go crazy. But here? Nothing. It’s like I never had it.

  I find my thoughts starting to drift, and force myself to concentrate on locating Tío Goyo. But no matter how hard I focus, I get nothing.

  I stand up and turn in a slow circle. I can’t even catch his scent. When the wind shifts and I finally do, I follow it to where he’s sitting on the edge of a flat rock. The ground drops away from the edge in a sheer cliff. The bottom has to be a couple hundred feet below.